


Falling Back

by TWDrew



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, My First Fanfic, Not Really Character Death, Please Don't Hate Me, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4834064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDrew/pseuds/TWDrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It'd been 3 years since the death of Sherlock Holmes. John's struggling to adapt still. But now ??????</p><p>I'm sorry, I'm terrible at summaries. If you're going to read it, you've probably already heard of it from someone else. Please enjoy and leave some feedback? This is my first fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Back

John sat in the living room of his flat. His leg bounced up and down as he looked around. He sighed ‘Quiet…’ He thought. ‘I never thought I would miss the noise.’ His grip tightened around the gun in his hand. He sighed and slowly got up, making his way around the room. It had been about two years since the fall. John looked around the room at all of the weird and wacky things that used to be Sherlock’s. Two years and John still hadn’t worked up the nerve to move or get rid of any of it. After the fall, John hadn’t been able to go back to the flat for a month or so. Mrs. Hudson, being Mrs. Hudson, kept the flat in his name so it would be there when he returned. He walked over to the window and stared out onto the streets. They were nearly empty, as usual. Without Sherlock, everything seemed so dull and boring to John.  
      
    He sighed once again and turned away from the window in favour of walking to the fireplace. “Hmm… Skull’s gone..” He turned on his heels and headed for the door, placing the gun on top of the fireplace before going to Mrs. Hudson’s door. He knocked and took a step back as he heard shuffling from the other side of the door. “I’ll be there in a minute!” Moments later, she answered and gave him a small smile. “Oh, John, what do you need?” John opened his mouth to answer her, then cleared his throat. Suddenly finding himself unable to talk. “Do you have Sher—“ He cut himself off and took a deep breath before continuing. “The skull?” His voice broke a bit as he spoke. Mrs. Hudson nodded. “Yes, I believe I do. Do you want it back?”  
“If it’s not too much trouble.” She just waved him off. “It’s no trouble at all. You just wait here, I’ll be back.” She disappeared into her flat and a few moments later, reappeared with the skull. John nodded and took it. “Thanks..” She smiled apologetically. “How’re you doing? We haven’t talked in a while.” He shrugged noncommittally. “I’m fine.”  
“And the job search, how’s that going?”  
“Nothing yet. Well, nothing that catches my eye.” She nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. “I understand. I’m glad you’re doing okay. God knows he wouldn’t have wanted you to sulk about.” John just nodded and left without another word.  
      
    Once back in his flat, he set the skull back in its respective place on the mantle. He stared at it and rubbed the top thoughtfully as he remembered the conversation he had had with Sherlock about said skull. He smiled as he heard Sherlock’’s soothing voice play in his mind.  
      
   _Sherlock pointed to the skull on the mantle. “And this is a friend of mine.” He hesitated, as if he caught his own error in his choice of words. “When I say ‘friend’.”_  
      
    John smiled to himself as he played back another memory…  
      
_They’re back in the flat when John spoke. “So, why are you talking to me?” Sherlock shrugged. “Mrs. Hudson took my skull.” John deadpanned. “So, I’m basically filling in for the skull?”_  
_“Relax, you’re doing fine.”_  
      
    John sighed as he relaxed back in his arm chair. Or, as much as he could with Sherlock on his mind. His relaxed features shifted into a frown as he remembered the conversation he had with Sherlock before he jumped. He still thinks about it, naturally. He doesn’t bother with what anyone else said. Sherlock didn’t lie to him. Sherlock wasn’t fake. The conversation continued to play in his head, as if it was on repeat.  
      
   _John’s cab pulled up near the flat just as his phone rang. “Sherlock, are you okay?” He got out of the cab and started walking to their flat. “Turn around and walk back the way you came.” Sherlock commanded shakily. “No, I’m coming in.” He could hear a strangled noise on the other end. “Just..Do as I ask. Please.” John sighed, sounding exasperated. “Where?” He began to walk back to the spot that the cab dropped him off at. “Stop there.” John let out an annoyed huff. “Sherlock.”_  
_“Okay, look up. I’m on the rooftop.” John looked up and covered his mouth when his eyes fell upon Sherlock. “Oh god..” Sherlock looked down at the scene below him. “I-I-I can’t come down, so we’ll have to do it like this.”_  
_“Do wha- Sherlock, what’s going on?”_  
_“An apology. It’s all true.” John shifted uncomfortably. “What?”_  
_“Everything they said about me.” He continued, “I invented Moriarty.” John bit his lip as he felt the threat of oncoming tears. “Why are you saying this?”_  
_“I’m a fake.”_  
_“Sherlock—“_  
_“The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes.” John shook his head frantically and pointed up at Sherlock. “Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?”_  
_“No one could be that clever, John.”_  
_“You could.” Sherlock laughed weakly. “I researched you. Before we met, I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It’s a trick. It’s just a magic trick.” John stared up at Sherlock in disbelief. “No. Alright, stop it now.” He started moving towards the building until Sherlock spoke desperately. “No, stay exactly where you are! Don’t move!” John stalled, then stopped. “Alright.”_  
_“Keep your eyes fixed on me.” John can hear his voice breaking over the phone. “Please, will you do this for me?”_  
_“Do.. Do what?”_  
_“This phone call, it’s…” He sniffled and cleared his throat before continuing. “It’s my note. That’s what people do, isn’t it? Leave a note?” John’s worry increased as he started moving towards the building. “Leave a note when?”_  
_“Goodbye, John.”_  
_“No, don’t—“ John watched in horror as Sherlock dropped the phone, stuck his arms out and fell forward. He froze as Sherlock hit the ground, a pool of blood began to form under his head. “No…No…No…Please, god, no.” John pushed his way through the crowd that now surrounded Sherlock. “P-Please. Let me through. He’s my friend. I’m a doctor. He’s my friend.” He knelt beside his limp friend. “Sher—no.” He put his head in his hands just as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Then, he was being pulled back, away from Sherlock. Everything else after that was a blur. He recalled seeing Sherlock being lifted up and put into an ambulance._  
  
    The next thought that popped into John’s head was him standing with Mrs. Hudson in front of a tombstone. Sherlock Holmes’ tombstone. He remembered exactly what he had said that day, how could he forget? They had been his final words to his friend.  
      
_Mrs. Hudson had just walked away, giving John some time alone with Sherlock. There had been so many things that he never got to say—never get to say—so, he took a breath and began._  
_“Um. Hm. You.. you told me once that you weren’t a hero. Um. There were times when I didn’t even think you were human. But let me tell you this, you were the best man and most human—“ He paused, trying to compose himself. “—human being that I have ever known, and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. And so… There.” He moved closer to the tombstone and placed his hand on it. “I was so alone and I owe you so much.” He turned and started walking away before turning back to the grave. “Please, there’s just one more thing. One more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don’t be…dead.” His throat clenched and his voice sounded worn and rough as he continued. “Would you do that, just for me? Just stop it, stop this…”_  
      
    John snapped back into reality when he heard Mrs. Hudson calling his name. “—ohn? John, are you alright?” He looked up at her, his eyes a bit red and puffy. “I.. Sorry, I—“ He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Sorry, yes. Did you need something?”  
“You seemed a bit off earlier, I thought I should check on you. I found you like this and i… Would you like to talk about it?” John shook his head. “No..It’s just..Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson nodded. “I understand, dearie. I miss him, too. But, in a way, he’s still here. Just don’t forget him.” She left after that, leaving John alone with his thoughts. He looked down at his feet and muttered quietly, “I could never forget him…”  
      
    That night, John found himself staring at the ceiling from his bed, unable to fall asleep. He groaned and got up, walking into the living room. He sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. He sighed and rubbed his face, then glanced down at the top desk drawer. With trembling hands, he reached down and slowly opened it, revealing the glock from earlier. He picked it up and looked at it in his hand, turning it over a few times before holding it as steady as he could. He slowly raised the gun to his temple and took a deep breath. His hands shook, making the weapon vibrate over his temple. He closed his eyes just as he felt a few tears roll down his cheek. “Sherlock, I am so very sorry. This is all a bit…not good, I suppose.” He placed his index finger over the trigger. “I just want to see you again.”  
      
    Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a voice popped into his head. ‘John, I never thought you’d be one to take the easy way out. Did I get something wrong?’ He imagined that the voice belonged to Sherlock, so he let it continue. ‘You shouldn’t be feeling sorry fro yourself. You can’t do this. You can’t end your life. What would Mrs. Hudson think? Who would take care of her? People need you, John. I need you to stay strong.’  
    John lowered the gun and placed it on the desk in front of him. He put his head in his hands again, letting himself cry out his emotions. Feeling defeated, he went back to bed and attempted to get a little sleep.  
      
    John woke up the next morning, feeling more than a little bummed out. He still couldn’t think of anything other than Sherlock. He went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. As he does, he remembered the time in Baskerville that Sherlock had made him coffee as, what John had thought, a form of an apology.  
      
_Sherlock handed John a small cup of coffee with a smile. John looked down at the cup, his brow furrowed. “What’s this?” Sherlock’s smile faltered. “Coffee. I made you coffee.”_  
_“You never make coffee.”_  
_“I just did. You said you wanted—“_  
_“Sherlock, you don’t have to keep apologizing.” Sherlock’s smile returned, a little more nervous this time. “A nice, warm cup of coffee.” John took a sip. “It’s cold.” His smile faltered again, “A nice cup of coffee.”_  
_“It’s horrible.” His smile disappeared. “Cup of coffee.” John looked back into his cup. “I’m not even sure this is coffee.” Sherlock deadpanned. “Cup.”_  
      
    John took his cup with him to the living room and took a seat in the arm chair facing the telly. He thought back to when Sherlock had been yelling and shouting abuse at whatever show was on. Just as his mind had started reeling back to that moment, a knock sounded at the door. John’s attention snapped to the door. “Wha..?” He looked down at his watch. “6:47AM.” He groaned and got up, carrying his mug with him. As he approached the door, another knock came. “Alright, alright, I’m coming.” He grabbed the knob and opened the door, saying as he does, “Who are you and why the bloody hell are you knocking at this—“ He stopped himself when he saw who stood in front of him. His mouth opened to say something, anything, but all he could do was stand there, looking shocked. Sherlock was in front of him. There. Not dead. Alive. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked from Sherlock, then to the flat. He slowly closed the door and leaned against it. He tried to shake himself out of this, convince himself he was just seeing things. He set his mug on the table and opened the door again, frowning at the sight of Sherlock. Sherlock took a step forward “John…I—oof!” John cut him off with a well deserved punch in the face. Sherlock looked at John, his hand moving to cover the red mark now appearing “Alright, I deserved that.” John’s fist balled up again. “I… You…” He raised his fist again and winced as Sherlock held up both of his hands. “You have every right to be mad at me. I couldn’t tell you. I wanted to tell you so much, but I couldn’t. Moriarty’s men would’ve killed you and the others. I needed to keep them safe.” John just stared back at him while he explained, his emotions bubbling up inside of him. “John..? Please say something.. Anything… Just someth—“ John effectively shut Sherlock up when he pressed his lips against the genius’s lips. Sherlock stiffened against John, unsure of what to do. John whined against him. “Shut up, just…shut up.” He continued to kiss Sherlock until he felt no response and started to pull away. Just as he was doing so, Sherlock grabbed him by his collar and pulled him closer until their lips crashed together again. John made a surprised, but approving noise and dragged him inside.  
      
    As soon as the door had shut, John had Sherlock pressed up against it, his mouth finding its way back to Sherlock’s. Their bodies melted together as if that’s how they should be. ‘It is how it should be.’ John thought to himself as his tongue fought for dominance with the detective’s. John’s knee had somehow found its way in-between Sherlock’s legs, who gave a low growl as his knee rubbed against his growing erection. “J-John, I…Sorry..So sorry…” John moved his head to be level with the taller man’s neck. He latched on to it, ghosting kisses along the bulging vein and across his Adam’s apple. Sherlock made a needy noise, which he would deny making later, and muttered John’s name. “John… Are you sure this is what you want? You emotions were held in after I jumped and I think you’re just using me as an outlet. I don’t want you to regret anything later when we wake up. So, I need you to be absolutely certa—“ John pulled away slightly, putting his hand on Sherlock’s chest. He replied slowly, his voice still a bit strained. “I know, I know. This is what I want—what I have wanted.” He looked up at Sherlock, trying to read his face. “Do you..not want to do this?” Sherlock’s expression softened. “John, I…” He trailed off.  
      
    John took his hand off of his friend’s chest and took a step back, hanging his head and holding his hands, looking embarrassed. “I…Sorry.. I shouldn’t have.. I should’ve known that you wouldn’t want to..uh..well, want me.” Sherlock reached out to grab John’s arm. “You didn’t let me finish.” He gripped John’s arm tight, pulling him closer until their bodies were almost flush against each other. A pink flush crawled up John;s neck and his heart rate sped up. Sherlock dipped his head and kissed him gently. This kiss was softer than the last one, still needy, but less aggressive. As John began to kiss back, Sherlock smiled against him and brought a hand up to cup John’s face, rubbing his thumb over his jaw. He ran a tentative tongue over John’s lip before pulling back slightly, letting John decide how fast they should go.  
      
    John whined softly, following the other man’s lips as he pulls away. Sherlock chuckled quietly and leaned in to meet John’s lips. The shorter man hummed in appreciation against the other’s lips. They stagger through the flat until they reach Sherlock’s bedroom, only breaking the kiss to discard the various layers of unnecessary clothing. When they reach the bedroom door, both men are nearly naked, clad in only their underwear. John backed up until he felt the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He fell back onto the bed, pulling Sherlock with him. As he fell, Sherlock felt their erections brush through their shorts. They moaned in unison, then spoke “Please, I need you.” They hurried to take their shorts off, pulling back to admire each other’s beauty.  
      
    Sherlock looked down at John’s dick, moaning softly. “Beautiful..” He reached out to stroke him, causing John to moan in response, throwing his head back against the headboard. Sherlock smirked and started stroking him faster, moving closer to him. John pulled him up to straddle him, their erections colliding again. They both moan loudly as John takes both of their cocks in his hand, stroking them together. Sherlock gasps John’s name softly, urging him on. “More..” John leaned in, crashing their lips together. They moaned together again, rocking their hips together. “Sh-Sherlock.. I’m gonna—!” His words cut off into Sherlock’s mouth as he came hard into their hands. The pulsing sensation coming from John’s cock and the look on his face were more than enough to send him over the edge too. He came hard with a shout of John’s name, mixing their come together. John fell back against the bed, whimpering softly. Sherlock leaned down and licked at the mess on John’s stomach. He pulled back once it was clean and looked at John, licking his lips. “I need to leave you more often if I get sex like that.” John weakly hit him and Sherlock chuckled, leaning down to kiss him before they both fell asleep.


End file.
